Once More(With Feeling)
by BipolarMolar
Summary: All the bralker unrelated one-shots, AUs, prompt fills fics that I meant to write. I'm definitely going to finish all incomplete work on here though, but this is probably my last Bralker fic. Review if you like it:)
1. Grenadegasm

**Title: Once More (With Feeling)**

**Author: BipolarMolar**

**Disclaimer: I make no money from this, strictly non-profit.**

**Ok, so have some additional bralker stories. Unrelated one-shots, standalones, filled prompts are here. Stories I either didn't want to continue, or had forgotten about. The bottom layer of curios in the drawer. The last stop on the bus. This is probably going to be my LAST Bralker fic (finally, right, lol) so it would mean a lot if you could review. Don't worry though; I'm definitely going to complete ALL incomplete work on here. Seriously, thanks for the support over the months of me writing bralker, I really **_**really**_** appreciated it.**

**Bye guys, **

**BM xxx**

**0o0o0o**

**GRENADEGASM**

**Set during the episode where "Joel gets himself into an explosive situation." For those who haven't seen it, some bad guys (Sampson's men) kidnap Joel, tie his wrists together and place what he is told is an active grenade into his hands. If he lets go of it, he'll be blown to kingdom come. They leave Joel, who is understandably terrified. Brendan and Walker find him and Brendan takes the grenade off him, without activating it. Joel runs to a safe distance and Brendan and Walker look at each other and then Brendan drops the grenade on purpose, where it falls harmlessly to the ground. It was a fake. Anyway, a bralker fan said that Walker's face during that scene looked aroused, so dubbed that scene- "The grenadegasm scene". And thus, a plotbunny grew. I experimented with a different writing style, like a stream of consciousness thing, to match the immediacy and urgency of the scene. Enjoy.**

**0o0o0o**

There are 206 bones in the human body. There are 24 ribs on average in the human body. They form a ribcage. Protecting the lungs- the heart

-His heart feels like it's bursting…

and there are 5 litres of blood in the body, being pumped around

(like a machine)

to supply oxygen and nutrients around, around, around this _delicate system_ _–_

_circulatory, digestive, endocrine, immune, urinary, lymphatic, muscular, reproductive, skeletal, respiratory and nervous_

-He feels so nervous.

But this is useless because those systems will fail. His heart will stop beating; his lungs (which are burning in his chest right now) will stop breathing.

If…

Brendan should let go of the grenade.

Joel's run off (coward) and it's _him_ and Brendan, Brendan Brady and Simon Walker, as it always was, through prison and now this. Brendan _can't_ die, not yet- Walker still has to make him pay, make him bleed and beg for every second that Cam weakens- every tear Walker shed for his brain-dead brother.

But still though- this moment- it's a thrill. Walker is tripping on the high of ready adrenaline and fear and it feels like _flying_

(he can see why Cam took drugs. Never felt _that_ before.)

And Brendan 's got that odd hangdog expression where his eyes look too heavy, hands clutching the grenade, holding it _so_ tight-

(he's held Walker like that in the past-by the throat and Walker can still feel the phantom fingers pressing down, and the heavy weight of a forearm on his clavicle).

It's almost like sex(He's glad of his coat) and the roaring high that's seeping him up like a tornado, no, a tsunami, will only swoop down into a crashing low when Brendan _moves_, moves the damn thing, _damns_ them( huh- they're both going to hell, that's for certain, and Walker personally can't think of a worse punishment than being Brendan Brady's cellmate for eternity) or he'll throw it, but he'll need an arm like Aleksandr Baryshnikov to throw that thing so far that the damage won't touch them.

And for- oh god, Walker's hard. He can feel it, insistent, wants to take himself in hand and work out the tension until he comes in his trousers, feel the juice drip down his thighs to stain his shoes. All with Brendan watching. He wants to feel Brendan's scorching gaze, those eyes he wants to claw out to widen invitingly, a target awaiting an archer. He wants to come and feel Brendan touching him, right here in the open because in this _one_ moment- between living and death- nothing matters. The moment owns him.

They count, Brendan and Simon, counting "One" "Two" "Three" and then Brendan

d

r

o

p

s

the grenade.

It bounces a little, to roll to a halt at Brendan's feet.

Uhh. Grenades shouldn't…he feels stupid now, like a sleepy kind of stupid zzzzzz…grenades shouldn't bounce. Grenades should explode. It didn't explode- it's a fake.

Brendan's clearly not as tough as he pretends, his breath comes out in a rush with his eyes falling closed and his head tilts back to expose that throat- Walker stares at that expanse of skin- his mouth is open but now waters for that vulnerable flesh- he wants to _lick_ and _suck_ and _bite_.

"How did you know?" When they've stolen back relieved breaths, irritation, frustration and _oh_ _damn it_, admiration colours Walker's words.

Brendan gives him a blind look, not really seeing the man.

"What makes you think I knew?" He says, before leaving Walker. Alone.

Later, as Walker lies in a hard, cold bed, lips parted in a breathless gasp, bringing himself to orgasm, the high from this isn't as overwhelming, as all-consuming as facing death with Brendan Brady. Because Walker needs Brendan.

FIN


	2. Hot Ride

**Title: Once More( With Feeling)**

**Chapter Title: Hot Ride**

**Set during Hollyoaks when Walker was new. The conversation they have at the start is canon. The rest is not.**

_Walker stared at Brendan from across the table, somehow not surprised. "So…you force me to get drunk, you lock me in your office, and now you're just gonna-" he let out a quick whistle. "Kick me out? I gotta say, Brendan- I feel used here, mate."_

_Brendan looked right back at him. Walker couldn't help remembering…_

**0o0o0o**

**The night before…**

Bloody Brendan. That was Walker's one recurring thought throughout the night. Bloody Brendan.

If you spend roughly months of your life in a little cell, eating sausage and mash (not a euphemism, Walker kept himself to himself in prison) and drinking milk or water, soon the blood is crying out for something a little stronger. Booze, to be specific.

And _hell_, Brendan his drinks. Walker almost cried when he saw the bar, cool, tall bottles in crocodile lines. Waiting. How gracious Brendan was.

They drank into the night- or Walker did. Brendan chose to sip his drink slowly, nursing it, so when Walker asked him with a smile "Are you trying to get me drunk, Brady?", Brendan only smiled in response and refilled Walker's glass. Walker drank it down, drank it all down, greedily, eagerly. And Brendan kept smiling and talking and laughing, filling Walker's glass, pushing a bottle into his hand and how could he say no? All he knew was that it was getting easier to sink back into the soft yet firm black leather of the sofa, lolling in a languid haze, the guard well and truly dropped and mind decidedly silly.

Walker was slowly slipping into a lazy lethargy, too sleepy and content to notice that Brendan had barely touched his drink.

Walker opened his eyes. He'd fallen asleep! It felt like five minutes had passed since his eyes had closed but he knew it must have been longer, because his tongue felt like sandpaper and the lights were dimmer in the room. He blinked blearily, trying to shrug off the uneasiness that had crept up. What had woken him up? He turned and met Brendan's unwavering stare, right beside him. God, that was…unnerving. Eugh, he couldn't _think_ straight, how much had he _drunk?_ He tried to ask Brendan why he had moved from sitting across from Walker to right next to him, but the words came out in a jumble and Brendan didn't seem to understand.

Walker cleared his throat, wincing, one hand flying to his throat at the dry burn, and then Brendan was pressing a polystyrene cup of something into his free hand and he downed the water quickly, feeling the cool liquid slide over his lips, to run down his chin, in rivers down his shirt. His hands felt limp, dead and useless, so when he dropped the cup and it fell to the ground, spraying its contents on the floor, he made some clumsy effort to retrieve it but collapsed back on the sofa, giggling drunkenly.

"S-sorry, _hic_, Brendan,"

"It's fine. Maybe you shouldn't have water- have some hair of dog instead." And then there was the rim of a glass pushing against his lips, and Walker's mouth opened, allowing access for the glass lip to clink against his teeth. He drank the wine, feeling a little sick but then he tried to turn his head away, Brendan held his face in place with two fingers on Walker's cheek.

Part of him thought that Brendan seemed to be trying to get him sizzled but the majority of him didn't much care at that point.

Now he was becoming more agreeable, and Brendan didn't need to hold the glass in place, tilting it so Walker could drink. If Walker stopped drinking, the alcohol just poured onto his face. Eventually, Brendan seemed satisfied and Walker was left in peace.

He slipped in and out of consciousness, unaware of how many minutes or hours were passing him by. Once or twice, he thought he felt fingers on his wrist, his knees, but he couldn't muster up enough energy to bat the hand away.

When he awoke again, feeling perhaps a little less woolly-headed than before but not better, it took him a moment to remember where he was. Again, he couldn't place what had woken him, but then he felt denim slide down his legs and he knew what it was.

"W-what...what are you...?" Brendan Brady was undressing him. Oh god. Brendan Brady was undressing him.

"Gerroff- Bren-" He flailed but was helpless as Brendan stripped him of his clothing. He attempted a clumsy kick at one point, but Brendan caught the floundering foot, using the opportunity to remove Walker's socks. This-this seriously wasn't happening! But damn it, it was, and now Brendan was wrestling with Walker's T-shirt. Wrestling because Walker was holding with as strong a death grip as he could manage, in his inebriated state. He didn't want to surrender that last scrap of clothing, to be defenceless and exposed.

Brendan tutted and left him with his victory. It was hard to feel pleased about it though, the shirt was damp with spilt beer, and he clutched it a little tighter to his chest, keeping his legs crossed...to protect his modesty.

He grimaced as his damp T-shirt rubbed against him, making him shiver. He was almost glad when Brendan pulled the top over his head, throwing it away dismissively.

Brendan murmured something, the words indistinct but the tone so appreciative that Walker blushed, feeling very much like an insect under a magnifying glass, subject to Brendan's study, his scrutiny.

Walker closed his eyes, letting his head fall back against the sofa, letting Brendan have access. He wasn't sure why he was doing this but it felt right.

He couldn't suppress the little sigh of relief as Brendan's hands, so warm, made contact with his cold chest. Palms flat on the skin and fingers splayed. He let Brendan warm him gradually, basking contentedly in the heat, smiling dazedly as Brendan's fingers skated over his pectorals. When a finger brushed over a nipple, he thought it was a mistake and certainly wasn't anticipating another flick of fingers, just skimming over his nipples- which were already hardened from the chill of his soaked shirt.

He let Brendan continue, the beer he'd enjoyed providing a nice barrier between himself and logic. The warmth was nice, and yes, the sleepy peaceful feelings of having someone coo and cluck over him, lavishing attention on him. When his nipples were achingly hard under Brendan's palm or between his fingers, Walker grunted and squirmed, unconsciously spreading his legs as his dick hardened.

"Brendan..." he muttered, keeping his eyes tightly closed to ignore the hand now wrapped around his cock. "Brendan..."

"Shh, I know. Shh." Brendan said soothingly, his Irish accent soft and lilting like a lullaby. Walker relaxed as Brendan began to stroke his hair, even as the other hand palmed his groin, and was soon bucking into that hand.

Brendan's fingers were _so_ talented, he was going to- he needed to-

"No…!" His wail of frustration did nothing to lure Brendan's hand back onto the hard length. Walker moaned in discomfort at the loss of contact, unsure whether to just deal with it himself. Oh god, how long had Brendan been gone? Felt like _hours_.

When he heard Brendan's breathing close by, and felt it on his face, he groggily opened his eyes…and then his eyes widened at the sight. Brendan Brady. Naked. Holding…

"Just getting the lube. Thought we might need it."

Walker blinked, still not sure how he'd got into this situation. "You're not…going to fuck me. I won't…" he cursed at his slurring but Brendan seemed to understand his words.

"I wouldn't try this, Walker, when you're…" he gestured awkwardly down at Walker's long, limp limbs.

"But you're," Walker's mouth moved without sound for a moment as he tried to order his words, commanding them to make sense. "If you're not gonna….then how-?"

Brendan's lip curled into a smile and then he slung a leg over Walker's waist, now in the straddling position. He roughly grabbed Walker's cock, took a moment to compose himself then sunk _down_.

Walker gasped as his aching cock was engulfed in heat, his head spinning. Brendan, naked, on his lap. Brendan, naked, sitting on his cock.

He'd obviously prepared himself for it, his insides slick and stretched- sneaky devil.

But then Brendan brought himself up to his knees, clutching at the back of the sofa behind Walker's head, and brought himself down again, and well, thinking became a luxury Walker couldn't have.

He knew he should probably be protesting but his mouth didn't want to move. His hands rose but instead of pushing Brendan away, they settled on his hips, holding onto him as Brendan slowly rode him.

Walker was moaning weakly, his hands falling to his sides as if weighted down with sandbags when Brendan reached around to yank Walker's hands off his hips. So he sat there, uselessly, feeling the tight, clenching pressure around his cock, so wet and warm- but unable to do anything.

Brendan was moaning shamelessly, his own cock hot and flushed but untouched.

Walker peered through his drunken gaze, focusing on the quivering mouth muttering filthy things, on Brendan's broad chest that was shining with sweat, the way his stomach muscles jumped and tensed as he strained, gracelessly, with knuckles white on the backrest.

"Uh!" Walker climaxed suddenly, giving one small thrust, hampered by the lapful of Irish arousal, he came, groaning lamely, as Brendan continued to pound on his softening dick, mercilessly. There was a panicked desperation in Brendan's movements as he urgently hurried through his own orgasm, cum spraying across his stomach as he grunted in satisfaction.

Walker barely had a moment to fall from the high before Brendan was shoving his clothes at him in a heap. Distracted with the bundle of fabric, Walker let himself be frogmarched to Brendan's office, in stumbling drunken steps, the floor cold on his bare feet.

When he was just over the threshold, Brendan quickly barked at him "Put your clothes on," before slamming the door shut in Walker's face.

Walker squinted at the door, attempting to open it but the bastard had locked him in. immediately, he began to dress, struggling in his state with buttons and zips (and he was sure is T-shirt was inside out) but eventually he was dressed.

He hammered on the door, growling threats and pleas, but Brendan had left him alone, so now hoarse and short of patience, he slumped in Brendan's chair to fall into a deep, alcohol-induced sleep.

0o0o0o

**The present day**

_Brendan eyed Walker across the table, with a gleam in his eye. "It was special for me too."_


	3. You Know What They Do To Guys Like Us

**Title: Once More (With Feeling)**

**Chapter Title: You Know What They Do To Guys Like Us In Prison**

**Set during Walker and Brendan's time in prison. Includes references to Shawnee (Walker's female boss) and Kai (an old drug dealer Brendan used to work with, who wanted to work with Brendan again in prison, in the canon.) Chapter title is a song by My Chemical Romance.**

_Everything about prison makes the human spirit recoil. The lack of freedom, the guards so haughty in their uniforms, the food- the food's terrible. _

_But oh sweet lord, the noise. Whether it's the clink of key chains or the call of the inmates, sometimes the clatter of cutlery and every night the snoring and muttering of many, weary men. The noise, constant noise is a unique torture._

_When Simon Walker was young, the word prison would conjure up images of fearsome trolls and dragons guarding ivory towers, where beautiful maidens awaited rescue. But then he grew up. And in this world, dragons and trolls __**don't**__ exist- although evil does. And no matter how long you wait or brush your hair until it lies sleek and shining- __**no one**__ will come and rescue you._

Walker stared into Kai Winter's eyes and sent up a silent prayer to a god he had no faith in.

_It was supposed to be so easy. Undercover in Her Majesty's Prison Longmere, make friends, keep your nose clean and your head down- but get to Kai. Pretend you're an addict or you just want to escape this regime for a day. Pay…receive drugs. Then Shawnee can come in, prove Kai's running a prison drugs ring, and get the fuck out. Walker never did understand what would happen to Kai when he got rumbled- they could hardly put him in __**prison**__, could they?_

"You got summin' of mine, 'aven't you?"

Walker said nothing.

_But nothing could have prepared him for this. Meeting Brady- the man who'd killed his brother. Chopping up vegetables next to him- he'd __**really**__ had no idea. But the moment he found out…everything ceased to matter. Kai, the deal, the word- even that god-awful mashed potato he was trying to shovel down. Nothing mattered except getting revenge for Cam. His attempts to befriend Kai had failed, and he'd been too consumed by this new obsession to try again. He became Brady's shadow, talking and tailing, noticing little things- Brendan's constant appetite, the way he scratched his moustache or beard, when his accent thinned or thickened depending on his mood .Silly things. Things that had no use._

"Answer me, you little twat. You fuckin' stole! NOBODY STEALS FROM ME!"

Still Walker said nothing.

_And yes, he got sloppy. Noticing a deadline, his - __**ha**__- mission drawing to a halt and he had nada. So…he did what he always did. He improvised. He could almost imagine the following conversation with Shawnee-_

"_You __**stole**__ from a drug lord?"_

"_What else could I do?"_

"_Oh, I don't know- obtained the evidence in a way that __**won't**__ have Kai wiping the floor with you!"_

"_Shawnee, you don't get it-"_

"_No, __**you **__don't get it. This is about more than you. You just have to hope and pray Kai doesn't find out it was you because if he does…and if he finds out you're a cop…"_

"_He won't."_

_He did._

Forget it. It wasn't the noise Walker hated, it was the proximity. Kai leant in close, too close, until his foul breath had polluted Walker's air, and Walker could count the red vessels stretching across the man's bulbous eyeballs.

"Thought I'd seen yer before. You're a copper, aren't yer? Gonna arrest me?" Kai smirked at Walker's poker-face. Easy to do when he had the younger man pressed up against a wall. "Not even a smile? Huh? Ok then…you gonna tell me wot yer real name is or am I gonna 'ave to give you one meself?"

Walker stifled a groan of pain as tattooed hands gripped his collar. Bheind the pair of them stood three of Kai's henchmen. This was not looking good.

Kai slammed Walker's head back into the wall and he cried out, eyes screwing shut, he was long past trying to seem calm and unmoved.

"It's alright. I won't tell on yer, Mr. Copper. Not yet, anyway. But I still gotta teach you a lesson, don't I? You know what they do to bobbies in prison?"

Walker opened his eyes slowly, smiling at Kai. "I have an idea." With the last strength, he spat in Kai's face.

**0o0o0o**

Brendan shuffled along the forecourt, pulling his dark-blue, prison- issued jumper tighter. He glanced around, dismissing the men playing cards, fighting, talking…no Walker. He was an odd one, alright. Brendan hadn't paid him much attention at first but Walker seemed to have taken an interest to him-

Brendan paused. Amidst all the noise, he could have sworn he's heard-

There it was again. A scream. But why should he bother? He was just here to do his time then go. No interfering… he followed the sound a few paces then stopped. That sounded like-

"I didn't take them! Please, please, I swear!" -Walker. Brendan ran.

**0o0o0o**

There was no dignity in this. Lying on the dusty, dirty ground, with his hands covering his head, feeling cuts bleeding and bruises swelling…he moaned pitifully, trembling. He'd thought he could be strong…this wasn't strong.

He rolled onto his back with difficulty, blinking up at the sight of Kai taking off his pale blue T-shirt. Wait…

"What I said- about bobbies in prison- I meant it." Kai threw his top to one of his cronies, who caught it. Walker was faced with the sight of a tattooed, slightly flabby chest and Kai's jack-o-lantern grin. "Wot I figure is- I'm doing yer a favour. You get to pay back for the drugs, and I get some fun out the deal. Sounds good, right?"

One of the henchmen flipped Walker over as easily as if handling a child. W

"You call," Walker gasped out, as one goon pinned his hands down near his head, and the other tugged his jogging bottoms down. "R-raping a man- fun?"

"No," Kai smiled. "I call making a stuck-up little prick my _bitch_- fun."

Walker closed his eyes and prayed for a miracle. When he heard trainers slapping against the ground, he opened his eyes, squinting up at the dark figure looming over him.

"Kai! What are you _doing_?" Brendan shouted.

**0o0o0o**

Nothing could have prepared Brendan for the sight. Walker lay sprawled across the ground, his neck straining to keep his face from meeting the dirt. Brendan winced in sympathy at one of Kai's associates pinning Walker's hands down, with his knees. But it was the cuts on Walker's face, the fear on his face, and the way Kai leered over him that made his blood run cold. Kai took his time to answer Brendan's question, pulling Walker's boxer shorts down forcefully.

Brendan couldn't help admiring Walker's arse; he was a hot-blooded man, what could be expected? Kai saw him staring and laughed. "Yeah, he's a looker, isn't he? I'm gonna enjoy this…"

"Why are you doing this?" Brendan said, appalled. "Don't tell me you're horny."

Kai scowled, grabbing a handful of Walker's hair and tugging it viciously. Walker's head was dragged back with the motion and Brendan felt liquid waves of anger and nausea rolling in his stomach. Seeing the long brown hair tangled in Kai's rough grip, he tried to catch Walker's eye. When their gazes locked, Walker's expression was determined but disgusted. Don't worry, I'll get you out of this, Brendan thought. He hoped Walker got the message.

"Not especially but I soon will be wiv this bloke, Brendan. 'e owes me, y'see. Stole my goods so now- I'm gonna 'ave to sample 'is goods." Kai released Walker's hair and Walker fell forward, chin hitting the ground with a painful thump. "S'what I gotta do, Brady. Gotta make 'im my bitch."

"You can't do that!" Brendan yelled, pulling at his own hair in frustration. What could he _do_, what could he _say_ to make Kai back off?

"Why not, Brendan?"

"Because- BECAUSE HE'S MY BITCH!"

**0o0o0o**

Kai froze. Brendan went still. Walker stopped struggling, his mouth falling open in shock. Even Kai's henchmen were paralysed in surprise.

Walker risked a glance up at Brendan but couldn't read anything from the tense set of lips and narrowed eyes. Brendan was pointedly ignoring him, keeping his gaze fixed resolutely on Kai. Like Walker didn't matter, like he _was_ just a bitch to be used without hesitation. He bit back a snarl, feeling Kai's stubby fingers flex in surprise at Brendan's words.

"Yours, Brendan? You…got yeself a bitch?" Kai's tone was disbelieving, even a dirt cackle at the end that was reminiscent of Del Boy Trotter, Walker thought.

"Yeah, we got talking a while ago. I was promoted, didn't you hear? From Mop Boy to Sou Chef . We…bonded over a pile of potatoes and a head of lettuce. The rest as they say- is history."

Kai seemed to consider this, and then his grip mercifully loosened. Walker gave a quiet sigh of relief, sagging weakly onto the ground as Kai moved back.

"It goes without saying that I'll pay you back, Kai. For the drugs. And I'll…punish him in my own way, of course. So," Brendan took a small step forward and Kai's cronies tensed. "No harm done. We'll just be on our way then."

"Ahh…not so fast, Brady. 'e could be payin' you to say all that. And where would that get me, hmm? I'm a businessman, Mr. Brady. He's your bitch…" Kai stood and shrugged one shoulder. "Prove it."

Walker frowned. While he appreciated Brendan coming to his rescue like this, they both should have known Kai would have something up his sleeve. You didn't become a drugs baron by taking people at their words.

Brendan's slow blinking conveyed his confusion almost as well as his words did. "Prove- how? How do I prove something like that?"

Kai rolled his eyes and one of his cronies, a tall bald man with a wide, up-turned nose who Walker immediately dubbed Percy due to his porcine appearance, laughed mockingly.

"Kiss, Brendan. Kiss the little prat."

"Then we can go?" Brendan asked sceptically.

"We'll see. Just do the bloody thing."

They were all still acting like Walker was invisible and he hated it but he figured as long as Kai and his lackeys weren't laying into him, the better. One kiss. Wouldn't matter, right? Just one silly gesture to fool this meat-head. Oh, don't be mistaken; Walker knew he'd blown his mission- from now on, he'd have Kai's attention and wouldn't be able to get that close again. But all he cared about now was walking away from this without any bones broken- it was a wonder he hadn't been more seriously hurt. But one of the reasons for that, he acknowledged, ashamed, was that Brendan had turned up in the nick of time. He didn't dare look around as he felt Kai step away from him completely, but the momentary relief was replaced by apprheension as Brendan took Kai's movement as a cue to step forward and drop to his haunches in front of Walker.

**Is this ok..? **Brendan mouthed.

**Do it.** Walker mouthed back viciously, a reckless sneer in place. He saw Brendan's face moving closer and then…

Brendan's mouth was on his, warm but smooth and his moustache (which was softer than Walker would have thought) was tickling Walker's face and then Brendan drew back and it was over as quickly as it had begun.

He couldn't believe his heart was capable of beating so fast, he could almost sense it bumping in his ribcage, pulsing wetly and thrashing against the curved bones that held it in place. So intent on this train of thought, he only caught the last part of Kai's comment.

"… and then maybe I'll believe you when you say that's yer bitch."

"What's he saying?" Walker whispered, the quiet tone masking his unease. Brendan responded in an equally low tone, but before he even spoke, the way his brows knitted together anxiously gave Walker a new fear, a feeling that settled in his gut and made him know with certainty that he wouldn't like Brendan's answer.

"He wants to see me prove you're mine by…having sex…with you."

Even though his mind was panicking, and his breath was short, Walker amazed himself by being able to keep his voice steady. "He wants you to rape me, in other words?"

Kai and his men were growing restless. Brendan raised a hand, palm-forward, in an appeasement gesture, but Walker reckoned he was the only one who noticed that the hand was shaking. "Just…" Brendan said, his voice strained. "Give me a moment for me to talk to him."

Walker felt a twinge of sympathy for Brendan- having Kai's threatening glare directed at him had been frightening, but now there was some solace in him being ignored. Kai was discussing Walker like he was a piece of meat, and at first that had annoyed Walker. But now, seeing Brendan risk so much to help Walker, keeping Kai's unfriendly stare so fixed on his face, Walker couldn't help but feel grateful. And that feeling confused the hell out of him.

Kai watched Brendan for a few moments and those precious, waiting moments kept the air so quiet, the expectant hush in the little alcove being similar to that of a crowd watching a performer teeter on a tightrope, or stick their head into a lion's mouth. Walker could guess how the latter performer would feel- he couldn't cast from his mind the feeling that he and Brendan were in the belly of the beast right now.

But then Kai relaxed, spine slumping forward a little, and everyone excluding him (but rather surprisingly, including his cronies) breathed a silent sigh of relief. "Sure thing, Brendan. Don't keep yer girlfriend waitin.'" Kai turned his back, like the perfect gentleman he _never_ was.

Brendan and Walker huddled together, like two children sharing secrets. "Brendan," Walker said. What he was trying to say, he didn't know. He couldn't even decipher his own thoughts past the fear, but whatever it was Brendan heard in his voice, it made him slap a heavy hand reassuringly on Walker's shoulder.

"It'll be ok. We'll be ok." That little touch repulsed Walker, his enemy trying to make him feel better. _We'll be ok,_ he wanted to say, _but what about Cam? _But then he realised how stupid he was being. Worry about yourself, _then_ worry about Cam _later_. Even with Kai not listening, both men spoke in hushed whispers.

"How are we gonna do this? We can't fight them off, Brendan…"

"What are you suggesting?" Brendan murmured, a frown twisting the dark brows. Walker couldn't quite meet Brendan's eye, so he followed the line of his eyelashes, following the shadows they cast and the granules of 'sand' in the corners of his eyes.

"We're- we might have to go through with this."

"You can't be serious. Walker!" Indignation stung at Brendan's dismayed expression- wouldn't the whole experience be worse for Walker?

"I am serious, Brendan. We have to do this. Thing is, if you don't do it, he will. And..." _And even though I hate you to pieces, I know you like me more than Kai does, so you'll try not to hurt me._ "And I… like you, Brendan. I trust you."

That seemed to floor Brendan. Walker watched shock, and doubt, and confusion and more doubt and then, finally, something softer and more hesitant flash across Brendan's face before he seemed to admit defeat, nodding once and murmuring "Yeah. Ok, we'll…do it."

"Boys, finished yer natter! C'mon, don't keep a man waitin'!" the odious call was designed to get under a man's skin, but Walker was distracted from his own revulsion by Brendan quickly grabbing hold of his arm, pulling him closer so Brendan's mouth brushed his ear. "There's something you should know, Walker." Walker tried to focus on the hurried whisper even with Kai's taunts littering the air. "Walker, I'm g-"

"Time's up!" Kai announced, clapping his hands together. "Talking time is over. Brendan, if you'd be so kind-"

"I'm not going in dry." Brendan immediately said and Walker felt begrudging respect at his confidence.

"Course not," Kai grinned, showing yellowed teeth. "That's wot yer gob's for."

All Walker knew was he had never participated in anal sex and he had no clue as to how Brendan was going to stick his cock up there. The very thought made his eyes water. Even Brendan looked aghast.

"I can't just -use my spit, Kai. Come on,_ please_." There it was again, that small feeling of kinship with this man, damn it, why did Brendan have to_ like_ him? Brendan's concern over the lack of lubricant was clearly more out of concern for Walker than himself- Walker would be the one suffering the most. Walker still wasn't sure how Brendan would manage to hold an erection, as far as Walker knew, Brendan had never shown any inclination to men. Ah well, he'd probably just close his eyes and think of Sophia Loren.

"Sorry, boys. Clothes off." Ah, Kai's smile was gone.

Brendan took a deep breath. It provably sounded like it was his way of steeling himself up to go through with this, but Walker knew better. Brendan was enraged but trying to retain the anger. Walker could only fervently hope that this rage wouldn't manifest itself in Brendan's movements once he was inside him.

Without another word, Brendan pulled his navy jumper off and carefully placed it on the ground. Taking the hint, Walker lay on his front so his crotch was protected from the ground by the soft material. There was a clinical kind of method to Brendan's movements, _going through the motions_, as he yanked Walker's trousers and boxers fully down, so they were now at his ankles. But then Brendan stopped, and Walker tensed, wondering what (besides this whole _fucked-up_ situation) was wrong. Brendan let out a breath almost like a sigh, and his hands fell down onto the backs of Walker's thighs.

"Get on wiv it." Walker heard Kai snarl. Brendan made some sound of agreement but it was missing its hatred from earlier, he sounded sad.

"Sorry," Brendan muttered. "S'been a while, I guess." Walker could believe him. He tried to imagine Brendan with his arms around some beautiful woman, but the idea gave him a chill so he desisted. Anyway, he had more important things to think about because now Brendan was lowering his head so his lips brushed the crack of Walker's arse and then he spat on it.

No, Walker realised, he didn't spit exactly. But he must have let the saliva pool in his mouth, and then let it fall from his lips, onto Walker's skin. Brendan did this a couple more times, until Walker could distinctly feel the hot wetness, giving him the urge to wipe it away with his hand, although he knew he couldn't.

He didn't think he could feel more uncomfortable, between the saliva and hearing Kai shift his weight from foot-to-foot every few seconds, as if to remind them of his presence. But all these annoyances were nothing compared to the feeling of Brendan's fingers on his arse. Brendan must have sucked his fingers just now because they were wet, and that thought made Walker's feel odd, like his innards had been liquefied. Brendan let his fingers collect a little more spittle, by rubbing his fingers along the cleft of Walker's arse, and then, using the fingers of one hand, he separated the cheeks, using the fingers on his right hand to try and penetrate. Walker winced although it didn't really hurt yet, but when he felt Brendan pushing at a certain area, he thought at first he'd got it wrong. Brendan was probing at skin that was giving a resistance, he pushed harder and Walker gave a grunt of pain.

"I don't believe this man's been shagged before." Kai said unhelpfully. Brendan's reply sounded testy; clearly he didn't appreciate Kai's backseat nagging.

"That's not much use to me, Kai. Of course he's been shagged, he's _mine_, remember." On the word mine, Brendan's finger finally forced itself inside and Walker gasped. It felt strange, Brendan's finger was trapped, Walker could feel his walls pushing at the finger, trying to get back to the original tightness before that digit had broken in there.

"If you say so." Kai said, and Brendan pulled his finger out roughly. Walker jumped at the flash of pain.

"Sure you don't have anything to make this a little easier, Kai?" Brendan asked casually, although his movements seemed tense. He stuck the finger back in and this time it was a little easier.

"You mean drugs, Mr. Brady? Why, I never thought you to be the type."

Walker wanted to shout _Stop having a conversation; you're supposed to be concentrating!_ But Brendan's finger was slipping in easier, so he'd added another one.

"Actually, I meant hand cream." Ignoring Kai's laughter, Brendan leant down and _licked_ Walker. Walker gasped, the moustache rubbing against his buttocks as Brendan lapped at his hole. He felt his cock twitch and he couldn't believe that this, _this_ was turning him on. Brendan must have done this before because he knew just what to do; he alternated between licking and even sticking his tongue inside, with using his fingers. Walker found himself pushing back for the tongue, biting back all the sounds his body wanted to make, not wanting to give Kai the satisfaction. And shying away from the fingers, the wrong, painful feeling of the hard bone of knuckles pressed tight against his walls, pushing at the skin, stretching the orifice in a way that had Walker squirming. Even though he wanted to hate this, his mortal enemy violating him in the most degrading ways, some shameless part of him was relieved he was enjoying this, and made him want to throw back his head and beg Brendan to lick deeper, properly fuck him with his tongue.

Brendan's hands were spreading Walker's legs further apart, pushing on the backs of his knees to prompt him into going on all fours and he complied, wanting that tongue back inside him.

This position felt even more degrading, like a bitch- in doggie style, everything about it exposed him. He hated the way his genitals were now on display, hanging limply, and his hair flopped comically in his eyes. Brendan hoisted Walker's T-shirt up and now he _was_ puzzled- why would Brendan do that? That wouldn't help the sex. He barely noticed how his knees were beginning to ache from the position because now Brendan's hands were on Walker's chest and he seemed adoring. Brendan felt the line of Walker's muscles, his six pack, tapped his belly button, stroked his pubic hair, rubbed his knuckle along the pubic bone and then…the hands went up to cup Walker's pectorals. Walker didn't know what a straight man would enjoy about touching another man's pecs, but Brendan seemed to have a fascination with them, he cupped and groped, when he'd located the centre of one of Walker's nipples, he rubbed it firmly with the pad of his thumb. Now he was on a mission, rubbing and tweaking both nipples until they were reddened and hard under his fingers. Walker stiffened a moan, he could feel himself unwillingly hardening and he knew the other men could see it. He should have expected the hand that reached underneath him to grab his groin, but he didn't, giving an embarrassing squeak of surprise as Brendan palmed his cock. He didn't want to want this, Brendan's hands all over him, the smell of his sweat and the wetness of his saliva, all over him. But Brendan was being just as determined as when he had rolled Walker's nipples between his fingers, he was pumping Walker's cock, cupping his balls, giving everything into the motion so Walker could feel himself going completely hard, knowing pre-cum was welling from the slit as Brendan's hand was suddenly moving up and down his prick with ease. Without Kai's voice, and the unwanted intrusion of Brendan's fingers in him, the feeling, this amazing sensation was all there was, and he was arching into Brendan's hand, he could come, right here, right now-

Brendan let go. Walker whimpered. He humped Brendan's hand encouragingly and heard Kai laugh, but nothing else. His body felt hot with shame as well as arousal. When Brendan nudged his legs apart, he let him, too disgusted with himself to stop him. He was letting his brother's killer touch him, and he was _enjoying_ the touch! He didn't think he could hate himself any more, but then Brendan pushed on his spine, so that Walker's back arched and his face hit the ground, arse offered up to Brendan like a bitch in heat, he was proved wrong.

Brendan wasted no time, guiding his cock to Walker's anus with his hand. Walker had a moment's grace before Brendan was entering him and-

The pain.

He cried out but somheow it wasn't quite as bad as he'd thought it'd be. He thought it would be like having a hot poker pushed inside, a feeling of his very insides splitting apart, but no. It was actually just like constipation and he hissed a manic laugh that had Kai frowning, courting hilarity in this unfamiliar sensation. But when Brendan was finally in, his thick cock as deep in as could be, Walker's muscles were adjusting to the sensation and it wasn't so bad. He felt full and far too fragile, like one move Brendan could make would just have him shattering like a snow globe, but he was getting used to this. Brendan gave a strange wriggle, and Walker tensed, but now the worst seemed to be over. He'd wondered at first how Brendan was maintaining an erection like this, but he had one too that didn't seem to be going any time soon. Brendan withdrew and with it came some of Walker's intestines. Or it felt like it, at least. When Brendan thrust in again, he apparently had his bearings because after that there was a rhythm to his movements, and he was plunging in harder, moaning obscenely in deep groans that seemed to rumble throughout his entire body. There was no question, Walker thought as his nose hit the ground once more, of who was in charge here. It was about more than just fucking a hole to Brendan- he was nosing Walker's neck and kissing his back, kissing his hair where it curled around his nape, little gestures that contrasted with the animalistic force of pounding into Walker. He hated to admit it but this was arousing- Brendan's low moans, the one-sided kisses, and sweaty, possessive hands grabbing every bit of skin they could. He was needed right now, he was desired. He whimpered as his cock ached painfully, unable to take his own hands from the ground as they were the only thing stopping him from falling face-first into the dirt, with Brendan's heavy weight across the back of him. But Brendan heard this sound, and Walker moaned in relief as his cock was taken with a rough hand, wonderful warmth tugging at him and even though his body was still consumed by Brendan's cock slipping stickily from him and then into him again, it was the hand on his shaft that had him crying out, a broken sob of Brendan's name, coming hard into Brendan's palm, with tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

His limbs were far past the point of being able to support his weight so he collapsed on the ground, resting his head on his hands feebly, to stop the dirt from entering the cuts on his face. Although it was also so he wouldn't have to look at Kai.

Brendan's cries were more frenzied, desperate and uncensored, as he jerked roughly into Walker. Walker tried clenching his muscles to hurry Brendan along and it worked, because with one wild cry, Brendan came, spunk shooting up inside Walker, hot, wet. Owning him.

Kai was saying things but Walker didn't listen, trying to regulate his own breathing, he kept his head down, ignoring everyone until at last the shadows Kai and his men had cast on the two of them were gone.

As soon as he felt able, Walker got into a sitting position, stupidly not expecting the ache in his backside. He groaned, and rubbed his rear, then stopped in case Brendan took it the wrong way. He could feel Brendan's eyes on him and he looked up, not sure what he was looking for, in those eyes. When that look passed between them, both men took it was a cue to move- Walker pulled his top down and his trousers and underwear up, whilst Brendan adjusted his clothing accordingly.

"So," Walker said- for something to say. Brendan was apparently captivated by his own drawstring fastening on his jogging bottoms, so didn't look up. "You went to tell me something, before we…what was it? What was it?"

Brendan still didn't look up. "I was going to tell you I'm gay. That you shouldn't worry because I've had men before, so I know what to do."

"Oh." Walker said, tugging the hem of his top. It was a long shirt, fell to just the top of his hips and when Walker gave that ambiguous reply, with his hands smoothing out the fabric, Brendan watched this motion and stepped forward, too close for Walker's liking.

"We could do this, Walker," And there was a quiet desperation in his eyes, in his tone, in the awkward waves of his hands. It was clear what 'this' was a reference to. "I'll keep Kai and anyone else off your…uh, back, and we could- I don't know, you enjoyed yourself, I'd always make it good…"

"I don't think-"

"It wouldn't hurt as much as four first time and we could-"

"I don't think so, but thanks anyway." Simon Walker said to his brother's killer, before turning and quietly walking away.


	4. Need Some Company

**Title: once More (With Feeling)**

**Chapter Title: Need Some Company?**

**Disclaimer: I have no claim…on Hollyoaks.**

**Ok, this is an AU where Brendan Brady and Simon Walker meet, under very different circumstances. Prompt given by TrekkieGirl, who asked for hooker!Walker. Thanks for the prompt. :) **

Idling along the kerb in his silver Mercedes, Brendan peered through the side window out into the dark street. The nearest lamppost was on the other side of the road, only throwing faint rays of light across. Brendan let the car crawl and then smoothly halt, right beside the open mouth of an alleyway. He glanced across his shoulder, the seatbelt taut against him, as he stared into the darkness. Now he was closer, it was easier to see. The little flickers of movement caught his eye, thin figures leaning against the brick walls that formed the three-sided cover from the wind. Boys, men, it was difficult to read ages in the night. And many of them wore make-up. His lip curled.

He wound down his window and braced himself for the shadowy bodies moving closer. First up was a young man, could barely have been more than eighteen. His black hair was gelled and Brendan saw glitter on his face.

"Hey," the prostitute smiled. "How 'bout some-"

"No." Brendan said immediately. The lad was too young.

Another man approached the car and asked Brendan if he wanted him. The whore was cheap- and Brendan was tempted, but when he turned his car light on and saw how haggard and haunted the man's face was, Brendan rejected him too. He was ashamed enough that he'd have to pay for sex right now, and seeing that drawn, dead face would only remind him of this. The rent boys flocked to his car, a sea of false attraction and eager voices, but they repulsed him. He hadn't thought it would be this hard to find someone he'd enjoy fucking, but no matter how many layers of make-up were plastered to their faces, their eyes were dead and soulless, something missing from them, and that absence made Brendan recoil.

He was ready to give it up and head home, but then something caught his eye. At first, he couldn't be sure what it was, and then he realised that it was the small orange glow of a lit cigarette. At the bottom of the alleyway, alone and apart from the hookers, and Brendan in his car, was a man. Smoking. The man stepped out of the shadows and Brendan saw brown hair and a pale face. Something stirred inside him.

The young prostitute (who'd only retreated a few steps after Brendan's rejection) saw him staring. "What you lookin' at?" he asked. Although he knew the answer.

"Who," Brendan asked, pointing out of the car without a care of what this mysterious man would think. "Is that?"

"Oh, you don't want him…"

"_Who is he?_"

"I've- I've never spoken to him but his name's Simon, I think. But we don't use our real names, so-"

"Get him."

The rent boy looked baffled and Brendan resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "You want me to…get him?"

Without taking his eyes off the man with the cigarette, Brendan drew out a crisp banknote and waved it dismissively. He felt the paper gently slip from his fingers and then the rent boy had sauntered down to where the man was. Brendan watched their exchange with a frustration he couldn't quite understand. He rolled his window back up to avoid the persistent whores, and undid his seat belt, relaxing back into the leather. He pictured the man again in his mind, or what he could see of him, that angular face and the dark brown hair. What surprised him was how quickly this was arousing him, he could feel himself growing hard and when he slipped a hand down his trousers to curl around his cock, the anticipation was heightening pleasurably, making that simple contact of his hand on his crotch stronger, and he groaned.

Two insistent raps on the glass cut through his thoughts. Instinctively, he knew it wasn't the rent boy from earlier, and his eyes snapped open. He wound the window down without trying to look too eager, and then Simon bent down, and Brendan's eyes connected with his.

"So…" Simon said. "You need some company?"

Brendan kept looking into Simon's steady gaze and nodded. "Get in." he said.

Brendan watched from the corner of his eye as Simon opened the door, slipping into the vehicle. Now that the man was closer, his cigarette-breath invading the car and the weary lines on his strained face sharper in the harsh light, Brendan wondered whether this was a bad idea. But one thing he hated was indecision so he turned the key in the ignition and gestured to the glove box with his free hand, saying over the velvet purr of the engine- "I keep breath mints in there. Take the hint."

He found he was breathing shallowly, so he could hear Simon over his own breath, so he could listen out for the small, subtle sounds Simon made, like the quiet click of the tic-tac against Simon's teeth, and the appreciative "mmm" he gave at the effortless acceleration of the sophisticated car. Brendan smiled to himself, glad that his own good taste wasn't wasted.

He parked in a nearby alleyway- _this_ one thankfully empty. Simon looked puzzled but went to get out anyway, but was stopped by Brendan's hand on his arm.

"No, we'll do it here." Brendan said. Seeing the look on Simon's face, he let out a short bark of a laugh. "Surely you've done this before, or do your clients insist on wooing you in The Hilton?"

"No steamy nights in The Hilton, I'm afraid," Simon answered blandly. "But they _have_ been known to fuck me in an alleyway, smash my face in and then take their money back before zipping off into the night…"

Brendan blanched. He suddenly felt terribly foolish, assuming Simon's life wouldn't be plagued with the dangers that other rent boys faced. Sitting in his car, in a filthy alley, and a street-wise whore seated across him, calmly describing the times he'd been beaten and robbed blind, he felt another flicker of doubt, more insistent this time. For all he knew, this man would rob _him_, or bring his pimp to kick Brendan's head in. he inspected at Simon more closely. Now that he was looking for it, he noticed the cuts on Simon's face, the faint purple shadow of a healing bruise near his temple. There was nothing he could say, no killer Brendan Brady line to utter, so he resorted to sarcasm.

"They want refunds? Are you really that bad?"

Simon snorted. "Hardly. But they want to have their cake and eat it too. There's something about having consensual sex with a person but having to hand over your hard-earned wages for it. There's a shame in it, I think."

Brendan couldn't believe it! "Don't defend them!"

"I'm not," Simon replied. "But I'm saying I know why some of them get a bit rough. Frustration, anger, shame. But just think of this- no matter how ashamed _you_ feel- think of how ashamed the person who is having to sell their own body for cash is feeling."

Simon's words made Brendan think. He didn't even realise he was leaning forward, fascinated, until the seat belt hampered his movements and he had to unbuckle it. "So how did you get into all this, then?"

"Selling myself, you mean? I'd rather not talk about it, ta. Made some mistakes, got in trouble with the worst kind of people, and now I'm…here."

"Don't take this the wrong way, but you're a bit old to be a rent boy-"

"Eugh, don't even _start_- rent boy! That sounds so stupid. And yes, I'm not some simpering young thing but you know what?" Simon's gaze hardened. "_I don't have a lot of options, right?_"

Brendan looked away, swallowing hard. "Sorry." he muttered.

"S'okay. I'm just venting, it's not your fault I'm in this mess."

A few seconds ticked by.

"So…" Simon began.. "You're gonna fuck me?" He smiled as Brendan raised an eyebrow at the words. "_Or…_" Simon snatched up Brendan's wallet, which lay in the glove box alongside the breath mints. "Oh, here we go- driver's licence- your name's Brendan Brady, that's a nice name! So, _Mr Brady_- are you going to sleep with me? Or are we going to talk all night?"

Brendan smiled and pulled Simon in for a kiss. When their lips met, Brendan groaned in relief, it had been too long, far too long .Clicking open Simon's seatbelt with his free hand, Brendan couldn't deny that the thought he had this man, was _paying_ him to do anything that Brendan desired, was making him hard.

Simon crawled into Brendan's lap as soon as he was freed from the belt, and Brendan shivered in delight at the warm, heaviness settling on his thighs. He was crying out for this, he'd missed this so much. Past caring, he buried his face in Simon's neck, inhaling the masculine musk of another male, hearing, dragging his eager tongue up Simon's neck and pushing the appendage harder against the flesh so he could feel the fine bone work through the thin layer of skin. Simon probably was very _busy_, he thought with a hot burst of anger, probably had lots of clients to see tonight, so would want to rush. Fine, he could deal with that. He grabbed Simon's hips, relishing the roughness of the denim of Simon's jeans scraping his palms. He felt alive, he felt in control and everything about this was so right. The times he's repressed what he truly wanted, lying on soft sheets with beautiful women, when he could having this, rutting against a gigolo past his prime, in a shiny Mercedes in a dirty alleyway. Nothing could be compared to this paradise.

Brendan gasped as Simon's hand found its way down the front of Brendan's trousers, and he hissed as the strap on Simon's digital watch scratched his skin, he reached down and ripped the damn accessory off, then brought Simon's now-bare hand up to his face. This was about more than fucking a faceless body; this was about languishing in this encounter, trying all the things he wasn't meant to have, tasting the forbidden fruit. Brendan licked at Simon's wrist, pushing at where a vein throbbed, feeling three thin bones form a guard of honour beneath the slightly sweating skin. He licked and bit, not caring what Simon thought of him, all he knew was he wanted to burn enough memories of this night into his brain to last him a lifetime.

Once again clutching Simon's hips, he used this grip to force Simon's body down so that he, Brendan, could arch up, making Simon hump his covered crotch. Brendan moaned at the sensation but he didn't want to come in his trousers, not like this. Pushing Simon back into his own seat, Brendan crawled onto his knees, in the driver's seat. Simon watched on curiously as Brendan clambered into the back, the car swaying a little from his movement. When Brendan was finally seated, he beckoned to Simon, watching as his companion joined him in the confined space.

Brendan spread his legs once Simon was seated beside him, unbuttoning his suit jacket and parting the sides so they no longer hid his belt, his hips. Simon watched on as Brendan unbuckled his belt, letting the leather strap hang limply from the belt loops, this simple gesture speaking volumes. Simon had already slithered down to kneel between Brendan's legs, so it wasn't really necessary for Brendan to say "I want you to suck my cock, Simon." But he said it anyway.

Simon was efficient, drawing out a condom from his jeans pocket, opening it quickly while Brendan unfastened his trousers and slipped them, along with his underwear, down to his knees. He barely had a moment before Simon's mouth was on his cock, warm and wet, too much contact after too long…if he'd had a worry that Simon wasn't using the condom, it faded when Simon took him in to the root; he must have put the unwrapped condom in his mouth before swallowing Brendan whole, because Brendan felt the thin rubber ease cover his cock with Simon's mouth swiftly following.

"Uh, please," he bucked up when Simon swallowed around his cock again, marvelling at how Simon didn't gag at how much of Brendan he was taking into his mouth. Must have had practice, he thought viciously, grabbing a handful of Simon's hair with one hand. Brendan thighs ached as he fucked Simon's mouth in hard, quick thrusts. He didn't want to overanalyse this, but maybe he was trying to chase away the taste of other clients, to this man. Even though they all surely wore condoms when Simon _serviced_ them. His climax had swept down on him, or maybe swept him up, he certainly hadn't thought it would take such a short time for him to- he didn't want to- not right now- he wanted to be inside Simon when he-

"Uh! Yes yes yes…" His sense of shame only increased as he pathetically whined, tightening his hold on Simon's hair as he came. Simon kept sucking on rubber like the good little worker he was, until the over-stimulation became too much to bear and Brendan pushed him away with a shaking hand.

"Th-that was good. I liked- you were…um…" Fuck, what was wrong with him, why couldn't he speak normally? Brendan concentrated on getting his breath back, but the shadow Simon cast over him hadn't yet moved. Belatedly, he realised Simon was waiting for payment. Brendan scowled.

"Thanks mate. I aim to please." Simon said, somewhat unnecessarily, and silence fell over them. Brendan knew Simon was trying to work his way to asking about payment, but Brendan couldn't let him do that. He couldn't let Simon slip off into the night, not yet. His eyes followed the contours of Simon's face and he realised something.

"That wasn't enough. I want to go again." It was worth it just to see the look on Simon's face.

"I'll pay," Brendan added. "I'll pay extra."

"Ok," Simon seemed to be considering this. "How long do you think it'll take you to," he coughed, face flaming. "To get hard again?"

Brendan brought a bottle out of his pocket and passed it over Simon accepted the container of lubricant with confusion. "As long as it takes you to finger yourself." he replied.

"You want to fuck me?" Simon asked and then muttered "You want to fuck me." Under his breath, as if in resignation. Brendan smirked, taking off the condom and tying it in a knot, careful not to spill the semen trapped inside it. He retrieved a carrier bag he's bought his morning paper in, and tossed the used rubber inside- the bag would serve as a rudimentary bin. Brendan fished out an unused condom from his pocket and watched as Simon hesitantly took his own clothes off.

Simon didn't take off any more than he had to; he kept his top on but pushed his trousers down to his knees. Brendan noticed he wasn't wearing any underwear and he smiled. That smile disappeared when it occurred to him that Simon wasn't aroused. Brendan felt a wave of shame pass through him, he wanted Simon to enjoy this. The idea of Simon hard and ready for him, wanting it, of Brendan being able to mean something more to Simon than just another bunch of banknotes made him feel dizzy.

"I suppose you have a plan in mind if some copper comes around the corner and catches us in the act?" Simon said in a conversational tone, as he stuck a finger in the bottle. Brendan watched on as Simon crooked the finger then straightened before withdrawing it, the digit now slick with the gel. Brendan shrugged while Simon repeated this with his other fingers. It wasn't the method Brendan normally chose but it seemed to be working for Simon.

"I do have a plan- Operation: Get The Fuck Out. Or maybe he'll like it, and stay around for the fun."

Simon chuckled but Brendan's breath hitched at the rasp to the sound. At that moment, Simon had stuck a wet finger inside himself.

"Simon- turn around. I want to see you do it." Brendan waited on tenterhooks as Simon shuffled around on his hands and knees, until he was no longer facing Brendan.

He almost moaned when he saw Simon's hole, ready for the man's fingers, soon to be ready for Brendan's cock. He loved how Simon had no hesitation now, there was a brazenness to the way he roughly shoved a finger inside himself, stabbing it ruthlessly in and out, then pushed back on it as if it wasn't hurting him, as if he wanted this. Brendan gasped, an intake of breath when Simon added two fingers, scissoring them apart with a pained hiss.

"Touch your cock. I want to see you like it." Brendan told him, and Simon was quick to do just that; pumping his own flaccid penis where it flopped listlessly, until(to Brendan's pleasure) it hardened somewhat. Now that he wasn't in danger of losing interest, Simon started fingering himself again, stretching himself and bearing the unpleasantness, when at last he collapsed down on the car floor, panting, sweating and half-hard

Brendan joined him on the floor with difficulty, taking advantage of Simon's pliant body to position him accordingly: on his knees, facing the middle back seat, with his hands resting near the seatbelt. At last, he had Simon ready and waiting for him. His to use. Brendan slipped on his condom and pressed himself against Simon's back, in a clumsy hug. He felt Simon press against him too, and that pressure against his cock made him moan again. He slipped a couple of fingers up Simon's arse, appreciating the moist, slick feel of the lubricant, savouring this one moment. Then caught hold of Simon's hips and thrust in hard.

This was perfect. His senses were blinded by Simon, feeling, seeing, hearing, smelling and even tasting him when he licked a wet stripe up Simon's neck. He wanted to make this last but he knew this wasn't going to be long, so he fucked into him hard and fast. Simon didn't moan, but his low grunts accompanying each thrust spurred Brendan on- he wanted to make this unflappable man fall apart at the seams.

Soon, he was pushing into him so hard that the car was rocking back and forth, an irritating rhythmic squeaking of metal becoming the background sound of their coitus, and he knew he was going hard from the way Simon held the middle seat belt with shaking fingers and white knuckles. Before he could lose himself completely, Brendan grasped Simon's cock, feeling deliriously pleased when he felt it hard and dripping pre-cum in his hand. It only took a few experienced strokes before Simon was coming, and oh, Brendan was so glad he wasn't swept up in his own orgasm, so happy he could witness it.

The only downside was that he couldn't see Simon's face when he came- but the startled sound of surprise as Simon's client brought him off was enough. Simon bucked into Brendan's hand with desperation, shock harshening his sounds of pleasure as he peaked. Brendan soon joined him in the bliss, crying out and holding him so tightly he knew it must be hurting Simon.

His knees gave out and he fell heavily onto Simon, who succumbed to gravity too, and for a few seconds, neither man said a word, concentrating on getting their breathing back to normal. Brendan was stunned. He didn't know when he'd ceased thinking about his work troubles( which were, after all, more worrisome than the average issues of the rat race) or his own frustrations, or even when his shame at having to pay for sex had been replaced by all-consuming, hungry lust. All he knew was that Simon had somehow made things…not better, but easier to cope with.

He fished in his wallet, withdrew his credit cards and then flung his wallet in Simon's direction when he'd finally pulled out and had the sense to put his trousers back on, lest a passer-by…well, passed by. He even pulled Simon's trousers back up for him, since the man hadn't yet moved from his spot on the floor.

"Here. I took my cards out. I don't know how much you charge…"

Simon finally got to his knees and accepted the leather offering. "Thanks. God. That's more than I make for one job- are you sure?"

Brendan gave a crooked smile. "Yeah. Keep the wallet too."

"Thanks. Thanks, Brendan."

"Hey, it's only a wallet, and your money- which you deserved."

Simon met his eyes. "That's…not what I meant. You made me- you- it wasn't like work." He finished, awkwardly, but Brendan knew what he meant.

"Ok, it was my pleasure," Brendan grinned at his own joke, but the grin soon faded when Simon got to his feet and opened the car door.

The evening air hit them like a brick wall, Brendan shivered and Simon didn't look much better, it was like opening the window of an aeroplane, the gale force chilling their skin. Simon glanced at Brendan over his shoulder, the wallet safely stowed away in his pocket, and his hair blowing in his eyes. Grimacing past the long brown strands, Simon said "Brendan?"

"Yes?" Brendan asked, scowling to hide the fact that the dry burn of the wind did nothing to stop the moisture forming in his eyes. This was a whore, for fuck's sake, why was he getting so caught up about a _whore?_

"You take care." Simon told him with feeling, before stepping outside and shutting the door firmly behind him.

Brendan barely managed a nod before he put both hands up to his face, under the pretence of rubbing the tiredness away, but really to check he wasn't actually crying. Maybe that's what it was about Simon. No pretence. He was honest with his words, about what he was, speaking clearly in that low, cautious voice about hookers, company and _money troubles…_

Brendan slowly lowered his hands. Jumping from the car, he set the alarm over his shoulder, sprinting through the street in unfastened trousers and an unbuttoned shirt flapping behind him like a superhero's cape.

The lonely street simply space beneath his feet as he ran, panting- he really wasn't cut out for this-until he spotted a familiar, lean figure sloping past a butcher's shop.

"Simon!" he shouted, but the combination of the cruel wind and his own exertion killed his voice. He tried again. "SIMON!" he bellowed. At last, he saw the figure pause and turn, and Brendan skidded the last few steps, Woody Woodpecker-style, staggering to a stop.

"Simon," he gasped, his panting breaths letting him do no more than stutter out Simon's name and clutch his arm like a lost child. "Simon, Simon, Jesus Christ, I- oh, _Simon…_"

"Brendan?" Simon asked, with an uncertain smile. Brendan wasn't fooled though; that smile was the smile a nurse gave to a confused elderly patient- it hardly meant he was pleased to see him.

"Simon, I was thinking we should- bollocks, should have written this down. Come with me," he grabbed Simon's hand. "The car's where I parked it. Come."

"You want more sex?" Simon asked him with a wrinkle of his nose. Brendan ran a frustrated hand through his hair, exasperated beyond belief at Simon not being able to comprehend his meaning.

"No, I don't fucking want- Simon- come with me. I can sort out your money troubles, you can find a place to live- live with me, whatever-"

Simon wasn't nodding or smiling- this was bad, this was _very_ bad. Instead, he shifted his weight form one scuffed, dirty trainer to the other, a doubtful look on his face. "And what? I live…in your debt? As your…_concubine?_"

Brendan reeled from the venom lacing Simon's tone. His mind raced on. "No! You can come- and work for me. Work in my nightclub. Pull pints, wipe down the bar- not glamorous, but it's honest work and you'd get free beer," he smirked. "of course, if you don't want honest work, we can arrange that too."

Simon stepped closer and whispered in his ear. "Are you talking about _crime_, Mr. Brady?"

Brendan grinned. "It's like a taboo. You don't say it out loud, but the other person knows what you're talking about."

"And I wouldn't owe you anything? I'd just be working for you?"

Brendan held up a hand. "You have my word."

Simon leant even closer and dipped his head, letting his lips brush Brendan's jaw, still keeping his voice a sinful whisper. "And if I wanted some company myself?"

Brendan's eyes half-closed and he smiled when he felt Simon's lips touch his. "That could be arranged," he muttered. "So…what do you think?"

"Brendan, my friend," Simon laughed, clapping a hand over Brendan's shoulders. "You had me at 'Free beer'."

**And they all lived slashily ever after. Hope you liked that, I had oodles of fun writing it. Let me know what you think!**


End file.
